


to bind a wound with chrysanthemum

by Papyrifera



Series: to walk among ghosts [2]
Category: Purple Hyacinth - Ephemerys & Sophism (Webcomic)
Genre: Blood Loss, Purple hyacinth au, broke into the wrong apartment, bullet wounds, empath!dylan, injured Kieren, medic!Dylan, poetic?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:26:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25319764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Papyrifera/pseuds/Papyrifera
Summary: A young man encounters an injured stranger in his apartment.
Series: to walk among ghosts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1833979
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	to bind a wound with chrysanthemum

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion piece that branched out from [and she wears a crown of marigold](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24281824).
> 
> A big thanks to [Nef, ](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/rising_goat_defeats_striking_dragon/pseuds/rising_goat_defeats_striking_dragon)[ExNihilo, ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ex_Nihilo)and[ Lanx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowflight) for beta-ing!

A white-haired man cloaked in navy and gold makes his way down the abandoned street, heavy boots clicking on the cobblestone path. His breath escapes in clouds of condensation that float skywards under the flickering streetlights of Greychapel.

(It reminds him of the ghosts that haunt Ardhalis, trailing in the wake of the city’s most wanted and their victims. Spectres borne from jealousy and frustration and sadness that he cannot heal.)

(Sticks and stones may break one’s bones, but it’s the words—the feelings, the emotions—that leave the deepest scars.)

Dylan stops at a door set in an old brownstone building. A worn iron _13_ nailed in the wood gleams dully as he fishes in his coat for a pair of keys and unlocks it with a faint click.

It creaks open, and an emotion wafts toward him, thick and dark, layers and layers of it spilling out of the entryway with an unnatural chill that sets off goosebumps through layers of clothing.

He palms his gun, closes the door, and flicks on a lamp.

There is a shadow in the hall in the shape of a man. In a blink, there is the glint of steel at his neck and the barrel of a gun pointed at the shadow in turn.

“I won’t kill you if you stay quiet,” the intruder warns, eyes cold.

He is dressed simply in a dark trench coat and a light shirt. A gloved hand holds the sword to Dylan’s neck. His dark hair is tied back with a ribbon, leaving strands of raven to frame splatters of blood and a pair of merciless turquoise eyes.

This stranger was a killer, ready to take his next victim.

(Yet, the undercurrent of panicked **confusion** , the visceral clarity of **guiltpainshockPLEASE** that radiates from the intruder, say otherwise.)

(An honest plea for a peaceful resolution was a rarity in a city marred by fear and strife. How could he refuse that chance?)

Dylan holds his hands up slowly, clicking the safety back in place. “Alright then.”

The stranger’s eyes narrow, glinting in suspicion. “How did you find this place?”

“I live here.”

A blink of surprise, and the intruder glances back towards the now-lit apartment. He curses under his breath, then coughs, clutching a suspiciously damp patch at his side.

Dylan frowns. “You’re injured.”

The stranger opens his mouth, but wavers, his weapon clattering to the floor. He sways, face ghost pale, glistening skin trailing with streaks of red. 

Dylan catches the stranger as he collapses. _Confusion, clammy skin, elevated heart and respiration, loss of motor function-_

(It’s all too familiar, this blinking fast fading of life as blood seeps out from broken skin and slitted veins and shattered hearts.)

(He made a promise to her then, surrounded by vibrant shades of life under the midday sun. He intended to keep it.)

“Ok. I don’t care who you are or what you did, I’m patching you up right now.”

The intruder mumbles something, snippets of questions slurred by the alarming amount of blood Dylan can see soaking through the shirt.

He sets the other man on his couch, pulls out a box of medical supplies from a cabinet, and takes a steadying breath.

“Alright.”

He strips his patient to his undergarments, revealing several bullet wounds and a large gash steadily weeping blood. He readies a needle and alcohol and bandages. “This’ll hurt. Don’t move.” 

The other man convulses in a laugh before falling still. “Ha…”

Dylan ignores the sharp flares of **pain** that ignite as he disinfects and stitches the wound closed with a practiced ease. He turns to the bullet riddled skin, and falls into a familiar pattern of disinfecting and dressing and bandaging until the room is no longer tinged with the scent of iron and his patient’s **pain** dissolves into an unconscious blankness. 

“Done,” he whispers to empty air. The other man is cool and pale, his heart a fluttering, rapidly beating thing beneath the pockmarked skin and bloody bandages, teetering on the edge of a void but still undeniably _alive._

Dylan releases a long sigh and the tension from his shoulders. He cleans his hands and tucks a blanket around his patient’s prone form. The medical supplies return to their cabinet with a faint clack, the bloodied clothes land in the trash with a rustle of protest.

The night is still now, warmed by candlelight, and Dylan takes the peace to really study the other man, puzzle out his motivations, his history.

_First: he was shot by a patrol unit. Those bullet wounds were a familiar sight after fixing so many reckless misfires in the police academy._

_Second: patrol units were only allowed to use deadly force if there was a threat in turn. Combined with that unwavering press of steel at his neck, those merciless eyes, and the man was likely an assassin._

Dylan should turn him in for investigation _right now._

_Yet-_

That **guilt** , that raw, **desperate** plea for peace wasn’t faked. 

_Why would someone so dangerous have such a wish?_

Here, in the midnight silence, with a mask lost to unconsciousness, he can feel the muted thrum of emotions underneath the assassin’s skin.

(His colleagues say he trusts too easily, too soft to carry out the harsh reality of the law.)

(But, there are always two sides to every story, with truth hidden somewhere between the fact and the fiction. What choice does he have but to dive in headfirst and trust his instincts?)

“Well, nothing gained if I don’t try…” Dylan mutters. He props himself in a chair and rests a hand on the stranger’s cheek and _feels._

On the surface, there are eddies of **anger** and **revenge** , stitched together with a dark kind of **joy** , cold and sharp and deliberate: the deadly menace of a wild predator. It looked at him and grinned, all gleaming teeth and dripping **malice**.

(He has spent a lifetime peering beyond masks, this is not the truth.)

(The lines of **conviction** that keep it chained, sturdy as bedrock, reveal the monster for what it is.)

It is a facade for the heavy cloak of **guilt** that clings to man--a tangible imprint that revived itself over and over and over with each bloody murder--and spilled into an ocean of regrets. 

_This_ was the ghost he felt at the door, heavy and dark and overpowering, an oppressive force that consumed everything in its path.

Yet, beneath the swirling waves, there is something light and pure hidden away, a pearl of luminescent **resolve** built around the grain of a tragedy, and Dylan falls asleep in its steady, anchoring rhythm.

(The honest, tumultuous, clarity of his emotions is a breath of fresh air in the freezing atmosphere of masks and lies in Ardhalis. He revels in it, burns with purpose, trying to match its storm.)

(It reminds him of another person and another time, of fiercely bright emotions that could rival the sun and a promise made under the blackthorn tree.)

**Author's Note:**

> Flower meanings:
> 
> Chrysanthemum- non-romantic affection, enduring life and rebirth
> 
> Blackthorn- fate, protection, hope against adversity
> 
> You can read Purple Hyacinth [here](https://www.webtoons.com/en/mystery/purple-hyacinth/list?title_no=1621) or join the Discord [here!](https://discord.gg/U8cmy5)


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